Steven's Longhorn

I was searching for artwork to go with Sunday's post and was reminded of another Steven story. In this story, Steven is in high school, probably around fifteen years old.

One of Steven's household chores was to take out the garbage after dinner. He did and when he returned inside, he said, "Mom, you're not going to believe this but there's a longhorn steer in our front yard."

We live on top of a steep hill. On the back side of the hill is a limestone quarry where numerous deer live. I frowned. "Steven, I know you're a city boy, but it's a deer. I need to get you to the country more."

"Mom, it has horns."

"On deer they're called antlers."

"I know. You need to come outside and see for yourself."

We walked out the front door and in our oak tree grove was indeed a longhorn steer.

"Mom, I know a deer from a longhorn."

"You do." I called Brian, my husband from his den, "We have a longhorn in the front yard."

"What do you want me to do about it?" asked Brian.

"Maybe call the police. It's lost and probably belongs to someone."

Brian did call the police and was told, 'We don't do longhorn steers. Leave him alone and he'll go back home.'

The following morning, the longhorn was gone. I guess he did mosey his way home.

It is comforting to know my teenage city boy did know the difference between a longhorn steer and deer.